Learning To Swim
by Ms. Jones
Summary: Oneshot. Maria escapes Altaïr's bonds, and hides in the harbour, to teach him to swim. Had to clean this one up A LOT to make it suitable, but rated M to be safe. Mild bad language and moderate sexual themes.


**Learning To Swim**

_Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Assassin's Creed or any relevant characters, which remain the property of Ubisoft.._

Altaïr ran around the city, feeling like an idiot. Acre was calm, peaceful, and beautiful at night, but he couldn't relax. She had got away, again. Some jailer he was!

Just because she could wrap him round her little finger, he was soft on her. She knew just how to make him melt; that innocent, wide-eyed, butter-wouldn't-melt stare, with the fluttering eyelashes, would get him to loosen the chains that were supposed to keep her, a prisoner of the Assassins, bound to him; out of trouble, and danger.

"Maria!" he called, crossly. "Get back here!" He shook his head in frustration. That girl did it every time. Actually, that wasn't true. There was the odd occasion where she would beg and plead Altaïr to loosen the itchy, tight steel manacles, give him _that_ look, only to tenderly hold his hand for a while, free of any attachments or bonds. He would often wonder, why would she want to do that with the person who was keeping her held prisoner. To build up trust, perhaps, or to lull him into a false sense of security, before giving him the slip.

Like today; one moment she had been squeezing his thumb like a sweet little girl with her small, soft, but strong fingers, and then she was gone, bounding through the crowds.

Now it was dusk, and the markets had packed up for the day, the crowds had dispersed, just a straggler here, a guard there, but Maria was nowhere to be seen. The bloody woman! He had to find her before daybreak, otherwise there would be trouble. Strangely, he wanted to keep an eye on the girl for more than just the fact that she was his prisoner. Quite often – for whatever reason – he couldn't sleep at night, and he would walk across the quarters, kneel beside her, to watch her doze. She had pretty lips, and lovely, dark, wavy hair, which she took down at night. The way it spilled over her face and around her shoulders, there was something so alluring, so... sexy about her. More than once, he had found himself sleeping beside her. Because of his swiftness, or it may well have been sheer luck, nobody, not even Maria, knew of what he did in the night. Yes, she was gorgeous, and he wanted to keep her safe. Goodness knows he didn't want the death of another beautiful woman on his conscience.

He reached the harbour, and started searching the cargo boxes, kicking each one sharply, hoping that it would startle her enough to make her jump out of her hiding place. After a few of these yielded nothing but a few squashed grapes, Altaïr became agitated. "Where the heck are you, woman?" he snarled at the darkening ocean, where he suddenly spotted a figure floating in the harbour. _Damn it, _he thought. He had spotted someone in peril, but there was no-one around to help. He couldn't swim, so there was no way he could give aid. He guessed he might be able to ease one of the smaller boats into the harbour, and hopefully get to the person in time? Yes, that would do. He looked over at the figure; there were no signs of a struggle to keep afloat as yet, but soon the temperature of the water would come down, and then there was the matter of fatigue; it took energy to stay afloat, Altaïr knew that much. He wandered over to a suitable-looking boat. Curiously, there was a pile of neatly folded clothes within the little wooden vessel. Did they belong to the figure in the water, he idly wondered.

"Oi!" came a shout. Altaïr looked up with a start. The loud exclamation had come from the figure in the water, who was slowly waving a slender arm. "Are you coming to rescue me or not, you Assassin scum?"

Altaïr stared indignantly at the figure. "Maria!" he snarled back. "I've been looking everywhere for you." He noticed she wasn't in any immediate difficulties, or present danger, in fact, she was keeping herself afloat quite capably. "You get back here, this instant!"

"No," Maria yelled back, defiantly. "Why don't _you_ come and get _me_? I am your prisoner, after all." With that, she performed a surface dive, revealing her bare legs; her shapely, stunning legs.

Altaïr felt a lump in his throat, and a strange warm feeling between his legs, like all the blood in his body was rushing there. Strange, he thought, he had not been struck or injured in that area... Anxiously, he waited for Maria to resurface, so he could yell at her some more.

Twenty seconds later, she came back up to the surface, her long, soaked hair sticking to her face, shoulders and chest. "Come on, then, Assassin, come and retrieve your prisoner!"

Altaïr walked to the edge of the jetty, to get as close to Maria as he dared. "You know I can't swim," he called back.

"Don't be a coward," Maria scoffed, bobbing up a little. Not too much, but enough to let the Assassin know that she was at least shirtless. She sighed loudly. "Look, I'll show you," she suggested. "First, take those weapons off." Altaïr frowned. Was this some kind of trick, some method of disarming him so she could make good her escape? "And that tunic as well, that will weigh you down like nothing else!"

Altaïr hissed frustratedly through his back teeth as he removed his holsters, sword belt, sash, cowl, tunic, and reluctantly, the bracer concealing his hidden blade, throwing them into the nearby boat. Why was this woman toying with him like this? It was quite obvious she was capable of swimming back to the jetty; why did she not just do so, instead of risking a knife in the head? Altaïr was a veritable _surgeon_ with throwing knives! He kept an eye on Maria, who smiled to herself.

He thought she didn't know, how he would settle down by her side, just to get to sleep at night. She knew, how he would scuttle like a rat back to his sheets at the break of dawn, and act like he had been there all night. She hadn't said anything to him because, quite honestly, she didn't want him to stop doing it. She longed for Altaïr's sleepless nights. Lately, she hungered for them.

"You can't get those nice boots wet, either," she called, eyeing him as he sat on the jetty, as he slipped his undershirt off, tugged off his boots, peeled his socks from his feet, and finally took off his trousers.

Watching as Altaïr removed his clothes, Maria licked her salty lips. So this is what he looked like in all his glory. She knew his face well, all too well, as he spent every waking moment, as well as most of his sleeping ones, in her company, but was very impressed with his physique; she guessed that was what came from training as a merciless killing machine for most of one's life. His ebony hair, all sticking up the way it was, untamed from being under a hood most of the time, softened his badass image, making him look... kind of... cute. No wonder he wore that hood all the time; he had a reputation to maintain. "Come on!" she hollered, and even she wasn't sure whether she was willing him to get in the water, or dispense with his shorts.

Altaïr tried not to flinch as he finally dipped his legs into the water. "That's it!" called Maria, almost encouragingly. "Jump in, keep yourself afloat by kicking your legs!"

"Okay..." Altaïr whispered to himself, easing his body nervously into the water, clinging to the edge of the jetty.

Maria was watching him, with a smile on her face. Her plan was working perfectly. Altaïr could probably swim fine without being weighted down by weapons and heavy waterlogged cotton clothes. He just needed a little... encouragement.

"You can let go of the edge now," she called. "Remember what I said about your legs. And move your arms as well... like this!" She turned in the water and began to swim away.

Altaïr noticed that Maria was completely naked. Something told him that this was probably intentional, and it would be a good idea to try and swim after her. Letting go of the jetty, he noticed that instead of sinking, he could hold himself up with his own strength. He began to kick his legs, just as Maria had told him, and copied the arm movements he'd seen her doing, rotating the whole arm from the shoulder, alternately. He found himself moving swiftly through the water, towards the beautiful girl. He was so fast, he managed to catch her by surprise, cheekily splashing her as he swam past.

Maria stopped, and began treading water, frowning at the Assassin, who was relieved to find they were still in the shallower part of the harbour, and his feet were able to touch the bottom. He steadied himself and grinned back at the scowling girl, whose thinning lips were pulled tight, disapprovingly. Suddenly, those beautiful, kissable lips relaxed and formed a smile.

"See," she said to him, "you _can _do it!" Grinning, she scooped up some water in her cupped palms, and threw it in the face of the smug Assassin.

Astonished, Altaïr stood rooted to the harbour bed for a few seconds. Then he wiped the excess water from his face, blinking away the salt water that was stinging his eyes. He ran a hand through his soaking hair. "Hey!" he protested, watching as a giggling Maria dove back into the waters. "You come back here, woman!" Frantically, he thrashed in the water, just about keeping himself afloat, hoping she would not swim further out. He didn't think he would be able to rescue her if she did, Heaven forbid, get into difficulties. Fortunately, this didn't seem to be the case, although she did disappear from view underneath the surface a few times; he was too cowardly to put his face under the water to search for her.

Altaïr pursued his prisoner in the foamy water, the briny froth he had created in his determination to recapture Maria – though not necessarily to detain her – impeded his blind hunt. As he tried to look for the elusive girl, he felt two hands either side of his hips. A second later, something slipped down his legs, and he was aware that he had been relieved of his linen undershorts. He sighed, feeling the water freely rippling around his exposed groin.

A figure emerged from the water, at Altaïr's side. "Got you!" she called jovially, jumping up to embrace him.

Altaïr pulled Maria to him, holding her chin, keeping her face out of the water. Her soaked skin felt good next to his, he thought, why hadn't he learned to swim earlier? He gazed into her sapphire eyes, which were shining in the moonlight. He stroked a few hanks of sodden hair out of her face, tracing the outline of her lips with his finger, longing to kiss them. He felt her hands creep up his back, her arms encircle his chest, reaching up for him. Maria's bare breasts were out of the water, dripping wet; it was a sight to behold. He longed to touch and stroke that soft, perky chest, but did not want to let his hands explore those areas just yet, lest it offend the pretty woman. Instead, noticing her lips were touching the bridge of his nose, he looked up.

"Altaïr," Maria breathed, "I know."

Altaïr frowned. "You know... what?" he asked, brushing some wet hanks of hair from her left shoulder.

Maria smiled. "I know what you do at night," she whispered, eyeing Altaïr, who was blushing.

He cleared his throat. "I'm certain I don't know what you mean, Maria," he answered her.

Maria giggled and stroked Altaïr's cheek. Curious. He'd recently had a shave. Just to come looking for her? How... very strange. She put this oddity to the back of her mind and returned to the matter at hand. "What you do at night," she repeated. "You know... when you can't sleep."

Altaïr smirked and shook his head. "None the wiser," he said, glancing down, pretending to be deep in thought, as he sneaked a look at her naked form, mostly obscured by the rippling water.

Maria shook her head and sighed. "I know that you lie down next to me, almost every night," she explained finally. "You think I don't notice, but I do."

Clapping a hand to his mouth, Altaïr gazed at Maria. "I'm sorry," he gasped. "I didn't mean to disturb you or make you feel uneasy..." He smoothed back his wet hair, before reaching to cling to Maria. "It shan't happen again."

"That's a pity," Maria pouted, stroking the back of Altaïr's neck, pulling herself a little bit closer. "Because I really like it when you do that." Her left hand stoked his cheek, her fingers feeling the soft skin under his jaw. "It makes me feel safe, protected." Wrapping her other arm around Altaïr's shoulder, she came ever closer to the Assassin, pressing her chest to his. "I wouldn't mind making it a... permanent arrangement." Finally, she afforded him a gentle peck on the lips.

Altaïr began to feel so glad he had been relieved of his undershorts as he kissed Maria in return. To be honest, he had waited months and months to do this, despite the fact he had nearly killed her when they very first met. He was so glad that he hadn't. He felt her tongue slide keenly between his lips; it felt so good.

Maria's fingertips stroked Altaïr's bare torso, her satin-like touch slipping ever downward. "I want you so badly, Assassin," she whispered. "I have wanted you from the first moment our eyes met." Her hand brushed against his firm buttocks. "Even though that was the most awkward moment of my life," she giggled.

Altaïr smiled and laughed softly. "You want me?" he asked. "Then take me, darling."

"Then I shall," Maria whispered, fingers trailing from his bottom to his hips. All of a sudden, she paused, and cautiously looked over her shoulder.

Altaïr hungrily nuzzled her left shoulder, enjoying the salty taste of her soft skin. "What's wrong, my sweet?" he whispered, desperate to take the beautiful girl as his own. He bit his lip, trying vainly to ignore his thumping heart, and tingling, nervous, but strangely pleasurable, feeling in his stomach.

"Did you ever get the feeling... you were being... watched?" Maria asked, still glancing around suspiciously, little droplets of water dribbling from the ends of her sleek hair, onto Altaïr's shoulders, tickling him suggestively.

"All the time, my love," he sighed, clutching Maria lovingly, pressing his lips to her slightly reluctant ones. Undaunted, he chuckled mischievously. "Come, my love, where has this sudden coyness sprung from?" he pleaded as he clung onto Maria for dear life, despite the fact he knew they were quite safe. Or were they? He noticed Maria was now shaking as she squeezed him round his firm chest. Was she cold, he wondered. Perhaps they should head for shore now. The sun had completely disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only a bright crimson line shimmering in the dark waters beyond the bay. He glanced to the shore, and saw only the lamplights from distant buildings; not a soul around; his superhuman second sight told him this.

"Trust me, beautiful," he sighed, touching her gently. "There is no-one here at all, but us, of course." Affectionately, he kissed Maria's neck, making her shudder for another couple of seconds, before melting into his arms, her lips finding his chin, which she gently nipped, before making her way up to his warm, wet, inviting lips. "I suppose... you're right," she breathed, in between impassioned smooches.

Maria grunted in surprise. She had not expected Altaïr to be so forward. She fancied him so much, and was always trying to make him chase her, it was dangerous, fun, and it made her feel excited, alive. She had often wished he would kiss her like this, like lovers would, and now it was finally happening, she was amazed, not least because, a few minutes ago, he wouldn't have even thought about getting into the water. He must really like her a lot to have done this. She moved slowly against him as they embraced, every movement magnified by the rushing water around their entwined bodies.

"Maria, my sweetness," Altaïr whispered. "Beautiful, beautiful girl... I have waited for this moment... for so long." It was true. Those long nights when sleep wouldn't come, he would cosy up next to Maria's apparently sleeping form, would gaze at her for a while, watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed. Often, such filthy thoughts as to take her sexually, crossed his mind but, despite the fact she was a prisoner, had worked for the enemy; in spite of all of this, he respected her. Besides, she was a gorgeous woman; she should remain unspoilt. As he kissed her beautiful lips, she shuddered and sighed; he supposed this was a good sign, so he kept doing it.

"My God, Altaïr," she sighed. "You're amazing!" She leaned forward and kissed him in return, feeling his soft lips on hers, wishing the feeling would never end. The Assassin was _good_ at this. Such a wonderful kisser she had never known. She thought it was maybe because she had of late been in the company of Templars, forbidden from having any sort of contact with any woman. Perhaps she had never known the security of being in a real relationship, having been forced into a loveless marriage by her worried parents. Is this really what love felt like? It was a beautiful, liberating feeling, to be in a romantic clinch with someone she had thought of, as well as being with, constantly. Now that he had admitted his affections, she felt freer than she ever had, even when she had absconded from the constraints of married life to pursue her own dreams of independence. She smiled, in the middle of a kiss, at the irony of it all, how emancipated she felt as a prisoner.

Finally, Altaïr began to feel a chilly breeze upon the back of his neck, which made him shiver, just as Maria had when she was convinced someone had been spying on them. "We should head to shore soon," Altaïr said, noting that the redness of the sunset was turning a deep purple. "It is getting cold, and Heaven forbid you get sick with a chill." He kissed her. "I don't want anything bad to happen to my girl."

Maria narrowed her eyes at the smitten Assassin. "What makes you think I'm your girl?" she asked dangerously. "Are you to assume that the moment we've just shared puts us into a relationship?"

Altaïr stroked Maria's hair, lovingly. "I was rather hoping that, actually," he confessed. "I've loved you since I first laid eyes on your beautiful form."

"You thought I was a Frenchman," Maria retorted accusingly. "And you were trying to kill me. I don't think that's a good basis for some sort of romantic love!"

Altaïr could feel himself blushing. All of what Maria said was technically true, but it didn't stop him being in love with her. "All that is in the past," he argued gently. "It matters not. What's important is now, the time we have at this minute." He kissed her; she parted her lips willingly as he let his tongue invade her mouth.

"Time is short," returned Maria, reluctantly breaking away from Altaïr's sweet kiss. "The sun sets; we should be getting back to your quarters. Here." She grabbed for a sodden cloth floating nearby. "Slip these back on, you filthy wretch, you!" She giggled as Altaïr flushed, embarrassed about being handed his worn under-shorts. "Come on, I'll help you back to the dock." She floated on her back, and grabbed Altaïr so his body was on top of hers. Holding him, she made her gentle way back to the shore, the jetty, and the empty boat with their discarded clothing.

Bathed in the beautiful silver moonlight, Maria's naked form stunned Altaïr, so much so that he began to feel as turned-on as he had been in the water. Quickly, he pulled up his wet shorts to try and cool his ardour, and hid behind his robes. He longed to have her again; would he get away with a cuddle that could lead to a little more once he was back in the guardhouse chamber that he shared with the sexy girl? Would she allow him an erotic fumble tonight, or was she worn out with her evasive swimming? He watched her slip her tunic back on; it was a shame to see those pretty little breasts covered up. Perhaps, if he was patient, she may reveal them to him again tonight. He tried not to think about it; the dirty thoughts flashing through his mind were making him feel quite uncomfortable.

Maria noticed Altaïr's discomfort. "Got an itch you just can't scratch?" she asked, suggestively.

Altaïr smiled back, pulling his cowl over his eyes. "You could say that," he growled, giving the girl a dirty smile. He would have to wait until later, when Maria could claw at whatever the hell she wanted of his! "Come, now." He grabbed Maria's wrist firmly, but not hard, as he might have done in the past. He felt her fingers stroking his arm.

Altaïr smiled to himself as he felt Maria's fingers upon his skin. She was turning him on so much; could he wait until he got back to the guardhouse? Although his desperation was well concealed behind his uniform, he knew it was there, causing him discomfort, and he needed to do something about it. He began to run towards a haystack, still clinging to Maria's arm. She had no choice but to tag along behind him.

"Altaïr, what are you do-" She paused and squealed as he picked her up and threw her into the bale; he dived in after her. Seeing her in the fading light, his lips found hers.

Maria suppressed a laugh as she felt Altaïr's hands slide up her tunic; she spat some hay out of her mouth. "You just couldn't wait, could you," she said, kissing his cheek. She felt his rough calloused skin upon her breasts.

"I couldn't help myself," Altaïr growled into her ear, kissing it, risking a mouthful of hair and hay. "You are so damn beautiful." His wet lips trailed to her waiting, trembling mouth.

Maria welcomed his kiss. Truth be told, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She reached down and slipped her trousers past her hips. "Go on, Assassin," she whispered. "I dare you."

Altaïr's eyes widened in surprise. She actually wanted him as well? He was amazed. Up until an hour ago he thought she hated him, resented him. Maybe she did, as there was a thin line separating love and hate. Then again, why would 'hate' make a person so passionate in this way? Hate. The hatred he'd held for Robert de Sable, for commanding the scum who had taken his first love Adha's life. The disgust he'd felt for Garnier de Naplouse, when he discovered that the Templar doctor mindlessly torturing and experimenting on innocent men, women and children. The loathing he carried for Al Mualim, for using him and his brethren to his own selfish, power-hungry ends for all those years. This awful emotion made him want to kill, not... lay with a woman! Smiling ironically, he reasoned there was no point in trying to figure out why she was offering herself to him. He shouldn't turn this down.

"Very well," Altaïr whispered, huskily, as he began to release himself from his clothes. Maria giggled as she heard the soft rustle of hay as the Assassin fumbled desperately with his clothing. She sighed heavily. "This is no good," she admitted.

Altaïr stopped in surprise. "What do you mean, my darling?" he asked, a little sadly.

Maria smiled. "I need to see you," she whispered passionately. "Take that damn hood off!" She pulled at his cowl and tossed it aside. "That's better," she said blissfully, running her fingers through his soft, black, still damp hair. "So adorable," she panted, his wonderful, familiar kiss making her forget the rough, prickly feeling of the hay on her bare buttocks.

Altaïr smiled. He adored this woman with his whole heart, but had never thought this feeling would be possible ever again. After he had lost Adha, he thought that was it, he would have to live the rest of his life alone. He had been resigned to his fate, basically married to the Brotherhood. Never again would he feel the wonderful rush of adrenaline to the heart, the pleasant, warm feeling of affection, and the comforting knowledge that the feeling was returned. Yet here he was, rolling around in the hay with a woman who felt the same elusive devotion for him. He could not, however, bring himself to make love to her, to give himself to her fully. Maybe, in the back of his mind, he was still conscious of being untrue to his beloved Adha, even though she was gone, forever. He felt a lump in his throat.

_Don't cry, you silly man, _he told himself, _Maria doesn't need to see that side of you. You're a big, tough, scary Assassin, who is going to protect her, not sob on her shoulders like a bloody child!_

"My love," came a sweet voice, "are you okay?" A soft hand stroked his neck, cheek, fingertips brushed against his lips. "You seem so quiet, all of a sudden."

Altaïr knew that if he dared speak, his voice would break, and he would start to cry. He did not want Maria to see his tears, so he placated her with a kiss. He thought of that moment, only of those beautiful lips on his. It blocked out the painful memories of his first love, that had brought tears to his eyes. Not that it should matter now. It was all in the past, anyway.

Maria giggled. "I already know that," she smiled. "Tell me, what's going on in that pretty head of yours." She was picking bits of straw out of his damp hair.

"You need not know, my love," Altaïr managed, enigmatically. "It is the past."

"You should tell me," Maria sighed. "We should have no secrets." She smiled, recalling the secret he thought she had from him.

"We should be getting back," he sniffed, blinking.

"You said that half an hour ago," Maria observed, fingers sneaking underneath the material of his tunic; she felt rough scar tissue from an old injury. He had been through so much to satisfy his commander's wishes, even though the mission had all been in vain, and for his former master's own selfish ends. It had been quite a blow to Altaïr to discover that betrayal, at the hands of a man who has been his teacher, his mentor, his father, for nearly fifteen years. She had heard the story about Al Mualim already, and wondered what other hardships he kept from others. "Oh well," she conceded. "Whenever you're ready."

Altaïr smiled softly. "Let us get back," he said, reaching for his discarded hood. "Come, my darling." He pulled Maria out of the haystack, just as promptly as he had thrown her in.

"Wait!" she squealed, trying to pull up her trousers, which Altaïr had tugged down to try and have his wicked way with Maria, until his melancholy thoughts had denied him. "I'm not ready yet!" As her feet touched the floor, her trousers were round her ankles, and her cheeks flushed scarlet as she realised she was exposed.

"Do you mind?" she reprimanded, tugging her bottoms up, catching Altaïr sneak a look at her bare arse. As soon as she did, she felt his strong arm around her. Literally, he swept her off her feet.

"Come, my love," he said, cradling Maria in his big strong arms. "While I'm at it, you've got a very cute little bottom." He smiled and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," Maria whispered into his ear, hidden beneath his hood. "Get me home quick and I'll show you it again." She kissed the exposed skin of his left cheek. "If you're lucky."

Altaïr smiled. "I'd like that very much," he said, turning a corner, walking down an alleyway towards the guardhouse. He grabbed both Maria's wrists, holding them as comfortably as he could with one hand, behind her back. "I'm sorry I have to do this," he whispered. "I have to make it look like I captured you."

Maria smiled, understanding. "You sort of did," she said, trying not to giggle as they approached the guardhouse.

"Ah, Master Altaïr," greeted the Assassin guard he recognised as Rauf. "I see you recaptured the prisoner."

"Indeed," snarled Altaïr, giving Maria a shove, a playful shove, but Maria acted like he had meant it, pretending to struggle. "Get your hands off me!" she hollered, rather convincingly.

Rauf grinned, staring at the rambunctious girl. "By the looks of her, she did not come quietly," he remarked, noticing the straw in her damp hair.

_If only... _Altaïr thought lustily, thinking of the things he wanted to do to his cute little prisoner, behind the wooden door of the cell they shared. He kept a straight face for the guard, however. "Yes," Altaïr answered gravely. "I noticed her frolicking naked in the harbour waters, then I lost her." Altaïr tried not to drool thinking about it. "Next I saw her she was hiding in a haystack, clothes back on." He pulled her stooping form to a standing position, pulling her hair. "Thankfully the hay made her sneeze, and that's how I got her!"

"Oh, shut up!" Maria yelled, and spat at Altaïr. She had to make her hatred look genuine.

Rauf reached forward and slapped Maria smartly across the cheek. "You show some respect, woman!" he snapped. "This man is keeping you safe, and out of trouble! Let me never catch you doing that again!"

"Yeah, you won't catch me," Maria retorted.

Inside, Altaïr wanted to hit Rauf back for what he had just done. That was uncalled for. How dare he strike the defenceless girl! However he knew standing up for his prisoner would put him in an awkward position. He took a breath. "It's quite all right, Rauf," he answered. "She won't do that again, will you, Miss?" He grabbed Maria's chin harshly with his free hand, making her look into his eyes. He gave her a quick wink, unseen by the Assassin guard, and she smiled quickly back. "No, sir," she answered, as dejectedly as she could, trying to make her fear sound real. She wasn't scared of Altaïr; for she now knew how to calm him.

Rauf, noticing that Altaïr didn't bother to wipe the saliva from his tunic, and thinking that odd, nevertheless stepped aside. "Take her through, Master," he said, swinging the metal gate open.

"Come," he snapped at Maria, giving her a shove. As soon as they were out of Rauf's sight and earshot, he embraced the girl. "I'm so sorry about that," he whispered, stroking her hair, which was still damp, with little bits of hay stuck to it. "I had to make them think that we are still... you know..."

"It's okay, I understand," Maria answered, desperate to get back to the room, where they could be alone, without the prying eyes of Rauf and his cronies. How long, she thought, could they keep up the pretence?

Altaïr gently kissed her forehead. "You were brilliant, by the way," he told her. "Acting like you _really_ hate me. The spitting and struggling and everything. You actually had me worried." He smiled, stroking her cheek. He was desperate to have her again, see her naked, set eyes on that cute little arse of hers. To watch her take her pleasure, and give it in equal measure, and finally to snuggle down next to her, only this time, with her blessing.

Maria relaxed into his arms, her cheek resting on his chest. "Take me to bed. Please?" she asked gently.

Altaïr smiled hungrily. "Certainly, my love," he said, unlocking the chamber door with a key hidden up his left sleeve, on a piece of string tucked conveniently in his hidden blade. "Come in." He ushered the girl quickly into the room, desperate to get his hands upon her once more. He was quite surprised at himself, his stamina had increased somewhat since he had met the girl.

Glad she didn't have to pretend any more, Maria wrapped her arms around the Assassin. "Alone at last," she breathed, unhitching Altaïr's short blade holster. She was intent on undressing him slowly, making him wait, teasing him until he could no longer stand it. She knew how aroused he was.

"My darling," Altaïr whispered, cuddling Maria close. "Sweet girl." He kissed her softly, stroking her hair with his fingertips. "I love you so."

Maria closed her eyes blissfully, reaching for Altaïr's belt buckle. "Hmm?" she mumbled, pretending she didn't hear. "What did you say?" She just wanted to listen to him say it again.

"I said, my beautiful," Altaïr kissed Maria's exposed throat, up to her chin. "I love you." Laying another kiss upon her perfect lips, he sighed.

Maria trailed her lips to Altaïr's ear. "I return your love, my darling." She slipped off his knife belt and untied his sash, opening up his tunic. "More than you will ever know." She meant it. She had never felt this way about anyone, certainly not Robert, not even her former husband Peter... no one. Why? He had tried to kill her, kidnapped and arrested her, yet there was something behind those light brown eyes, something more than a merciless killer. There was a lonely soul, who, although afraid of loss and rejection, just wanted to be loved. Maybe she could be the one to do that. She wouldn't mind; he was quite the good looking gentleman, especially with his hood off. Speaking of which, Maria thought, tugging at his cowl, exposing his black, tousled hair. She smoothed it out with her fingers. "I love how soft your hair is," she said, with an air of surprise. "It is easily the most beautiful thing I have ever touched." She sighed, letting the hair tickle her fingertips softly.

Altaïr smiled in contentment, feeling Maria's free hand slip underneath his undershirt. He was thinking of something _else _Maria could get her hands on!

"Ooh, he _does_ smile," Maria cooed, reaching down to kiss those grinning lips. "I'd like to see more of that, please, Mr. Brutal Assassin." She giggled as his smile became wider. He did look very handsome when he did that.

"Maybe, my darling," he said suggestively, "you can keep the smile on my face, all night." He reached down, hand stroking down his exposed tummy, hairy but muscular, unbuttoning his trousers. He gave Maria a longing look. "Do you suppose you would..."

Maria gave him a light slap across his cool, damp cheek. "Such audacity!" she exclaimed in mock disgust. "First you fumble with my naked person in a public harbour, then you throw me into a haystack and try to deflower me there, and now... now this!" She smiled wickedly back at Altaïr, pulling his robes from his shoulders, and roughly pulled down his trousers and undershorts in one desperate movement. So much for slow and seductive stripping; her man needed attention! Kicking off her shoes, pulling her own trousers down, stripping off her top, revealing herself to him again, she wet her lips seductively before kneeling astride his legs, and hunching downwards. "I am humbly yours..."

She knew just how to tame him.

"Whew," Altaïr said, catching his breath. "You are quite the good girl, when it comes to that." Lying down next to Maria's shuddering form, he stroked her soft, cold, pale skin. "Oh, my beautiful!" He reached for his discarded robes and wrapped them around the girl, to keep her cosy. "You're so cold, darling. These will keep you warm."

"Thank you, darling," whispered Maria, "but all I really need is your strong, loving arms around me." She stroked his face. "Will you hold me tonight?" she asked coyly.

Altaïr smiled. "Of course I will, my darling," he whispered. "It's been a tiring day for you, so I will do anything to make you comfortable." His hand reached down to between her legs. "Anything," he repeated, suggestively.

"Stop it," Maria giggled, slapping Altaïr's hand away playfully. "Your warm embrace would be quite enough." She snuggled into the crook of his shoulder, up near his neck. Her lips touched his cheek, and she kissed him delicately. "Goodnight, my love," she whispered, closing her eyes, pulling the robes over her.

"Goodnight, darling," Altaïr replied, muscular arms encircling the sleepy girl. "Sweet dreams, my angel." He stroked her hair, her face, not wanting to close his own eyes. He wanted to watch over this girl and protect her from all harm. He had fallen for her carefree nature so readily, and tumbled head-over-heels for her beauty as well. Watching her chest rise and fall, and listening to her rhythmic yet quiet breathing, Altaïr's eyelids eventually became heavy, so he allowed them to close, as a wave of blissful sleep finally enveloped him.

The next morning, Altaïr opened his eyes, hardly daring to believe that the girl in his arms was real. She had a half smile on her lips as she slept. He wondered what she was dreaming of – hopefully him! He squeezed her a little tighter to him and kissed her forehead, and her lips twitched into a slightly bigger smile.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, which made Maria awake suddenly with a whimper. Altaïr noticed right away and gave her another kiss on the forehead. "Good morning..." he began, before being interrupted by a man's urgent voice. "Altaïr," the man called importantly. "Get the prisoner ready and get down to the harbour. We leave for Cyprus this morning!"

Altaïr groaned. "Really, Malik?" he sighed, sarcastically. "Some of us are trying to sleep!" He turned to Maria, who was now wide awake, her chin resting on his chest, gazing up at him in adoration. "Aren't we?" he whispered, stroking Maria's hair.

"I don't care, man!" Malik hollered back. "The ship leaves soon, and we have to be prompt. And I need to talk to you as well, about an urgent matter. So secure the prisoner and get out here!"

Altaïr exhaled in disapproval and rolled his eyes. "Just a minute!" he cried. He turned to Maria. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered into her ear. "Looks like something big is happening." Slowly, unwillingly, he sat up. "There's a lead in Cyprus, so it looks like we're going there."

Just as reluctantly, Maria sat up, yielding Altaïr's clothes to him, and grabbing her own. "I wish we could stay here all day," she whispered, "cuddled up like this. It's so nice." She smiled and kissed Altaïr, who reciprocated with a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

"I know," he whispered, pulling his tunic back on, ignoring Malik's calls of "Hurry up!"

"You should get dressed, too," Altaïr told Maria as he buckled his holster up. "All right, Malik, I'll be there in a second!"

Maria, still topless, rushed over to help Altaïr with his buckles. "There," she whispered. "He sounds angry. You'd better go to him."

Altaïr smiled. "_You'd_ better put some clothes on," he teased gently, "before I start thinking lustful thoughts." He reached for her and started kissing her bare chest. "Too late," he murmured.

"ALTAÏR!" cried Malik impatiently. "I don't know what you're doing in there, but get out here, NOW!"

"I was to believe I was in charge!" Altaïr snarled back, angrily pulling his cowl back on. To Maria, he blew a kiss. "Stay there, my darling," he whispered. Then he raised his voice. "And I expect to see you ready when I get back!" He swung the door open and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. "Yes, Malik," he said exasperated.

Malik was grinning. "So, Master Assassin," he said. "How are things going with the prisoner?"

Altaïr felt himself flush, and was grateful he had pulled his hood on; he wasn't going to bother. "Miss Thorpe?" he replied steadily. "Yes. She has proved most... useful. She told me she was willing to aid our cause. I believe it was her information that led to the new thread that we intend to pursue today..." He paused, noticing Malik was trying not to laugh.

"Please, Altaïr," he said in his old, feigning-graciousness, sarcastic tone, "dispense with the meaningless formalities." He held up his hand. "I know that there's something going on between you two." He winked, watching amused as Altaïr's face contorted in rage and confusion.

"How did you..." Altaïr yelped, before looking quickly around for any other passing allies in the hallway. He certainly didn't want this revelation broadcast. "How did you know?" he hissed.

"My dear friend," Malik sighed. "I have been in the business of gleaning information for many years. You are displaying the classic signs of affection for her."

"Like what?" grunted Altaïr, eyeing Malik challengingly.

"Number one, and most obvious of all," Malik began, "you do not deny your affection when confronted." He smirked and nodded.

Altaïr lowered his head. "You have me there, Malik," he conceded.

"Secondly," Malik went on, "I notice how you dispense with the cuffs quite liberally, far more than a good jailer should. Far be it for me to tell you how to do your job, Master, but even I know a prisoner must be cuffed at all times whilst in public. Has she not escaped multiple times, including last night?"

"Agreed," conceded Altaïr , "but forgive me for stating the obvious fact that Miss Thorpe is a woman, and these iron manacles we use are very heavy for someone as delicate as her." At this point, Malik suppressed an almighty laugh.

"Really, Altaïr?" he chuckled, "you are bringing up the fact that she is a _woman_? True though that is, she is more of a man than most of the gentlemen in this building." He shuffled. "Present company excluded of course," he added, lowering his head ironically.

"Thank you, Malik," drawled Altaïr, feeling rather embarrassed.

"Which brings me to point number three," continued Malik. "I have clearly seen the pair of you holding hands, under the pretence that she, Miss Thorpe, is in chains." He looked even more smug. "Tell me, Master, why would you do such a thing?"

Altaïr became very red again. "She wanted to hold my hand," he explained. "There was a bond there. Sometimes it was a ruse to run from me, admittedly, but I do believe there was a desire for a level of closeness and trust." Why was he having to explain his actions? Malik knew that there was something going on between the Assassin and Maria, so why was he taunting him like this?

"How sweet," Malik remarked, to Altaïr's surprise, sounding genuine, as if he were happy for them. "However, I am not quite done. My fourth and final point. Last night..."

"Miss Thorpe escaped me again, yes," Altaïr confessed, "and I had to go after her. I was fairly sure she was in no immediate danger, however I knew I had to return her to the fort by the next morning. I..."

Malik covered his mouth and suppressed another laugh. "You're doing it again, Master," he said jovially. "As I was saying, last night, I was taking a moonlit constitutional along the harbour path, which was only marred by two rather inconsiderate youngsters in the water." He watched Altaïr's face carefully. "Disturbing the peace, they were. I put it down to the first flush of love, youthful high spirits. They appeared to be swimming naked within the harbour waters, hugging, perhaps more, I don't know." He shrugged, his right shoulder briefly meeting his ear. "I did not wait to find out. However, the acoustics are rather _wonderful_ at night, with the silence magnifying every sound; the chirping of crickets, the song of the nightingale, the soothing lapping of the ocean waves against..."

"Where are you going with this, Malik?" Altaïr demanded, knowing already what was coming. It was just so like his friend to elaborately mess around with him this way. Maria had been right, someone _had_ seen them. They had been caught, fair and square.

"I _heard_ some things, my friend, things that lead me to believe that the young couple in the water were engaging in more than just a friendly embrace within the water." He paused, stroking his beard. "I believe the gentleman said something along the lines of: 'You want me? Then take me.' Sound familiar, Master?"

Altaïr's face was burning, and he too, was trying not to laugh. He knew he had been caught. Despite the fact nothing untoward had happened, well, not in the water, at least, it was useless denying his love now, at least not to Malik.

"Interestingly, before this," Malik continued without consideration, "the pair were discussing some sort of night-time habits of the young gentleman. Apparently, he would illicitly snuggle up to this poor girl, thinking that she knew not of it, and this had been happening for a while. Not only was the young man embarrassed of his actions, the young lady actually confessed to _enjoying_ the attention." He paused. "Is this really what's been happening these past few weeks, dear friend?"

Altaïr nodded humbly. "You miss nothing, Malik," he said. "I am glad I have you as my right-hand man." He pulled the man into a bear-hug. "It is all true," he whispered. "I am in love with Maria Thorpe, body and soul. I never wish for her to leave my side. She has given me reason to exist and carry on when I began to suspect all hope was lost."

"Such touching words," Malik said, as the Assassin released him, "but maybe it is her you should be saying them to, not me."

Suddenly, the pair heard a banging on the other side of the locked wooden door. "Oi!" Maria shouted. "Are you two fools talking about me?"

Altaïr grinned, stepping over to the door, producing the key. "I think, Malik," he told his friend, "she already knows." He swung the door open and encountered Maria on the other side, her eyes flashing in apparent rage. She grabbed Altaïr into a tight embrace.

"Come," Altaïr whispered, reluctantly letting go of the girl. "Our ship departs in a few moments. Malik, lead the way." They began to walk down the hall, where Altaïr noticed that Maria was clinging tenderly to his thumb. How he loved it when she did that. It gave him comfort and reassurance, and he knew that this time, she wasn't going to run away from him ever again.

Out in the open, Maria let her hand reach and settle across Altair's back, clinging loosely to his waist. "Altaïr, my darling," she whispered to him as they walked across the crowded streets towards the harbour. "Did you mean all the things you said to your friend about me?"

Altaïr turned to look at his lover. "What things, my dear?" he asked, wanting nothing more than to stop and kiss her, but they had to press on toward the harbour, lest the boat leave without them.

Maria giggled. "I must confess, I was listening at the door," she admitted, guiltily. "I heard you say you loved me, body and soul... something like that?" she asked, with a shy look about her.

Altaïr blushed for the thousandth time that day. "That is true, yes," he said without hesitation. "And I also never wish for you to leave my side. You have given me..."

"...a reason to live?" Maria finished hopefully.

"That's right," Altaïr told the sweet, beautiful, wonderful lady, hugging him gently about his waist. "My darling, I love you so very much."

"That's good," Maria breathed, as they approached the harbour; Malik indicating the way to go. "Because I love you, too. More than I have ever loved anyone else before." She kissed his cheek gently. "I mean that, too."

Altaïr felt his cold heart melting as they followed Malik aboard the vessel. Maria was living, breathing, beautiful proof that there was still hope for the world, that there were still honest, wonderful people on this Earth so full of hatred and fear. He wanted nothing more than the pair of them to be together, forever. He had thought he would never feel the wonderful rush of love again, but sweet Maria had proved him wrong.

FIN


End file.
